by Susan Crosby
“That sounds like heaven, except that I’ve eaten, thanks. Where’s Dad?”
“Riding fence. I let him know.”
They automatically went into the kitchen, her domain. She poured coffee without asking and passed him a mug, black.
“You look good, son. I don’t know what I expected, but the time away hasn’t hurt you.”
“You don’t think I look three years older?”
She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “You’re a little more weathered, maybe. It adds to your handsomeness, but also makes you look a little more formidable.”
He laughed at her flattery. “You’ve always been my biggest fan.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I can still picture you at age two on your sweet old horse, Mabel, your hair sticking out from under your new hat. You’ll always be that angel.”
Out the window, he spotted a horse and rider approaching at a good clip then slowing as they neared the house. The horse’s reins would be looped over the hitching post next to the porch. The tall, sturdy rider would stomp his feet four times, the way his wife had trained him then fling open the front door.
One, two, three, four stomps. Then boots crossing the living room. They’d torn down the wall between the kitchen/dining room/living room a few years back, modernizing the space, opening it up.
Mitch stood as his father approached, not slowing down, but pulling Mitch into a big bear hug. It was more than he’d expected.
“I’ll take a cup of coffee, sweetheart,” Jim Ryder said, then he settled on a bar stool, as did Mitch, who waited for his father to speak first.
“How come you’ve been hidin’ out at the Barnard place?”
“I wasn’t hiding. I’ve been helping her out.”
His father’s brows went up. “I call it hiding when you don’t let your family—who haven’t seen you in aeons—know you’re back in town. And you hole up when I arrive. How’d you land there?”
“My truck broke down by her house. She mistook me for a handyman she’d hired over the phone. I didn’t correct her, and I still haven’t told her my last name.”
“Mitchell Ryder,” his mother said, shock coating the words. “How could you?”
“Surprisingly easily. I wasn’t ready to come home yet. It was kind of a joke at first, then it wasn’t so funny when I found out you’ve been wanting to buy her out.”
“I’d be doing her a favor. There’s no way she can make a living off that place.”
“She’s pretty determined.”
“Determination can take you a long way, but in this case, not far enough.”
“She tells me that Shep Morgan wants the place, too.”
“Course he does. He owns everything around it. Barney would never sell it to him. Shep tried for years, kept raising the offer, but the old guy wouldn’t budge. Ms. Barnard’s ex-husband would’ve sold it, but she wanted it something fierce, I guess.” He spun his coffee mug on the counter. “So, how’ve you been helping her? I noticed the new high tunnel. You responsible for that?”
“Only putting it up.” Mitch was uncomfortable talking about Annie. No, protective—that was how he felt. He admired her, and he didn’t want his father or anyone talking about her.
But Mitch also wanted his father’s approval, had always wanted it and never seemed to be able to get it fully, unconditionally.
“In your opinion, can she last the winter?” his father asked.
The answer was no. Mitch knew it. Annie probably knew it. But she was resolved to try, and Mitch didn’t want her to go down without a fight.
“I honestly don’t know,” he told his father. “Life’s a mystery.”
His father laughed at that. “It sure is. Take you, for instance. Out of all my kids, I never thought you’d be the one to take off like you did. Vaughn had different goals all along, but even he’s back now. Adam and Brody are content here, always have been. They’ve taken on leadership roles, too. But, you know, I expected more from you than the others. Ranching was in your blood from the day you spun your first lasso. I think you were two.”
“You were harder on me than the others.” Mitch noticed his mother slipping out of the room, giving them privacy.
“I was.”
“Why?”
“’Cause you’re most like me. This ranch will need a leader when I’m done working it. That’s you.”
“Maybe Jenny or Haley will want the job.” Even as Mitch made the suggestion that one of his sisters be in charge, he knew he was reaching. Haley was a physical therapist and loved it. Jenny was too sensitive. She always named the animals right after they were born and then was crushed when they were slaughtered. She’d become a vegetarian years ago.
“What do you want to be different this time around now that your granddad won’t be here as our buffer?” his father asked.
“I’m tired of buttin’ heads with you, Dad.” He held up a hand. “I know you love me. I don’t question that. But I’m thirty-six years old. I’m your son, not your child. I want to feel your confidence in me. Make me a junior partner. That’ll go a long way in my mind.”
“You’ve been thinking this over.”
Mitch nodded. Not for the whole time he was in Argentina, but the past six months anyway. “I have ambition, just like you. I know you’re still a young man, and you won’t be retiring anytime soon. Let me grow into the job that I’ll have one day.”
“Your behavior recently doesn’t give me a lot of faith, much as I hate to say it, Mitch. I’ve been very disappointed. You don’t seem to have the heart for this business that I thought you did. Or the common sense.”
Fury sped through Mitch before he controlled it, knowing that was how his father saw it. “You’re wrong. Let me prove it.”
His father looked away. Mitch knew that expression, the one that said he was debating.
“Okay, son. Here’s how. You’ve made a connection with Annie Barnard, one I sure haven’t been able to make. She’s got a helluva defensive wall built around her. I want you to stay on with her a while longer. She can’t possibly survive the winter. I want that property when she gives up.”
“Why?”
“Down the road, I could turn a nice profit with that piece of land.”
“By selling it to Morgan,” Mitch stated flatly.
“Of course. That’s how it’s been done between the Ryders and the Morgans for a century and a half. Why would it change now?”
“I won’t sabotage her. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“I’m not saying you should make her fail. You’d just give me a heads-up before Morgan hears about it.”
The only thing Mitch knew for sure was that he wasn’t ready to leave Annie’s place, not if he could help her in some way.
“Look, son, a lot has happened here while you were gone. Profits are down. The biomedical sales have become a gravy train for a lot of ranchers now, not just a few, so that train has left the station for us. We need to make money where we can. And frankly, Mitch, you owe this family something for taking over for you while you licked your wounds.”
“Is that what you call grieving for my grandfather? Your father? Licking my wounds?” Mitch came toe-to-toe with him. “I said I know you love me, but you rarely show it, and it’s not unconditional, like Granddad’s was.”
“I know you got your back up when I explained how you weren’t doin’ things the right way.”
“Explained? You criticized. A lot. Especially if I suggested any change in how we did things. We should’ve gone solar years ago. That’s a hedge, financially, but you said no. Then when I told you I was getting a divorce, you criticized me even more.” Memories came back hard and clear and painful. He’d so badly wanted his father’s support during the worst time in his life. “I should make it work, you said. I shouldn’t
let a mere woman have dominance over me. I guess I was supposed to live unhappily because you don’t believe in divorce.”
Mitch threw up his hands. “Hell, Dad, I don’t believe in divorce. Does anyone? Sometimes a marriage needs to end, period. And I paid for that one for a long time. I learned my lesson. Don’t trust any woman. Are you glad I learned that?”
Mitch shoved his fingers through his hair and blew out a long breath.
“We learn most things the hard way, son.”
Mitch didn’t hear either an apology or any emotion in the tone of voice. Mitch had been right. He wasn’t ready to come home, to work for his father again, but he also didn’t want family doors shut in his face. This ranch was his home, his future. He and his father had to figure out a way to accomplish that so that they both were happy.
“I’ll stay on at Annie’s, Dad, not to be your snitch but because I did learn something important from you—how to be a good neighbor, and that I owe my fellow man—or woman—help if I can give it. I can give it to Annie. You want her to fail. I want her to succeed. That’s the difference between us.”
“You fallin’ for this woman?”
“I admire her.”
His father’s gaze sharpened, as if seeing right through Mitch’s spoken motives to the base attraction for the strong, sexy woman trying to make it on her own.
“You have my permission,” Jim said.
Mitch wasn’t asking for permission. He would’ve stayed at Annie’s without it, but he didn’t debate the point. Staying with her suited his purpose, no matter what drove it.
His mother returned, carrying a cardboard box. “Thought you might like to take some beef with you. Adam and Brody were told last night to clean up your house, in case you were moving back home today, but I’m not really sure what you’ll find when you get there.”
Mitch could only guess. “I won’t be moving home, Mom. I’ll come back soon, but I’ve got things to do first.” He gave her a hug then used his most charming voice, trying to settle her disappointment that he wasn’t staying. “But I’ve been hankering for a Ryder T-bone.”
She shoved him playfully. “Take it with you to the Barnard place, then. There’s a rib roast, too, and some fillets.”
“Hamburger?” he asked hopefully. “Boys love hamburgers.” Big boys and little ones. And maybe one red-blooded woman, too.
Dori opened her refrigerator, added a package from her own stock to the box, then tossed in a few ice packs. Mitch kissed her cheek.
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
“I promise.” He turned to his father and held out his hand. “I’m gonna take Buckshot for a ride before I go. I hope he remembers me.”
“Everyone’s taken turns exercising him, but I have no doubt he’ll be glad to see you. Stay in touch, okay?”
“No cell coverage at The Barn Yard, but I’ll email.”
The front screen creaked open. “Grammie, I’m here!”
Six-year-old Cassidy Ryder came racing into the kitchen then stopped in her tracks, her corkscrew curls bouncing hard. “Who are you?”
“I’m your uncle Mitch. You haven’t seen me in a long time.”
“Should I give you a hug?”
Mitch swallowed at the tiny girl’s instant acceptance. “I would like that.” He hunkered down. She smacked a noisy kiss on his cheek then gave him a hug. When he stood, he was eye to eye with his older brother, Vaughn.
“You’ve gotten a little gray at the temples since I left,” Mitch said, hugging him.
“It’ll happen to you, too. Soon I imagine.” He pretended to punch his kid brother in the gut. “I didn’t see your truck.”
“It’s in need of repair. I’ve got parts on order. Dad’ll fill you in on the rest.”
“Got time to hang out for a while?” Vaughn asked.
“Not at the moment, but how about Monday afternoon?” Annie and Austin would be at the farmer’s market. “If my parts come in.”
“That’d be good. Mom, will you—”
“We’d be happy to keep our sweetheart. She can stay overnight, too.”
“Yay!” Cassidy yelled.
“Come to my house,” Vaughn said. “We’ll figure out a plan from there.”
Mitch felt overwhelmed suddenly and needed to leave. He made quick goodbyes, then headed for the stable, storing his box of beef in the stable refrigerator. The comforting scent of horse, hay and leather greeted him.
“Hey, Buckshot. Hey, boy,” Mitch said as he approached the stall. He’d owned the bay gelding for five years before he left, long enough to have a solid relationship.
The horse whinnied and snorted, the white blaze down his face in stark contrast with his black mane. He came forward and nudged Mitch in welcome. A lump formed in his throat as Buckshot continued to rub his face to Mitch’s. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Buckshot danced. Mitch found his gear right where he’d left it. He saddled his horse, mounted and took off, trotting out of the stable then letting loose the minute they were outside. Mitch bent over his neck and let him have his head.
Ahh, he’d missed this. He’d ridden every day in Argentina, but it wasn’t Buckshot, whom he’d raised and trained from a colt. Nor had it been a free run like this, but a job he did.
Mitch let him set the pace as they explored the ranch. Cattle grazed peacefully, hawks flew overhead, a variety of animals leaped in front and to the side of him. Without conscious thought, he’d been heading for the family cemetery.
The old, hallowed grounds had always been a place of contemplation for Mitch. Often he would conjure up images of his ancestors, remembering stories he’d heard all his life about the outlaw days of the gold rush era. He moved from headstone to headstone, imagining their lives, until he reached his grandfather’s, next to his wife, who had died seven years before him, leaving him lost and even more crotchety.
Mitch knelt, tending to the site, pulling a few stray weeds, rearranging the rocks to make a frame around it.
“I miss you, Granddad, more’n I can say.”
He climbed aboard Buckshot then took a more meandering path, ending up at his own house, the one he’d built right after he and Marissa had gotten married, a ranch-style structure with four bedrooms, a huge stone fireplace, and a modern kitchen. At least it had been modern when it was built. Maybe it was dated now.
He dismounted, left Buckshot at the railing and climbed the porch stairs. The house wasn’t locked. He hadn’t expected it to be.
He opened the door and stepped inside then came to a halt. If Adam and Brody had cleaned up the place, he couldn’t imagine how bad it had been to start with. Not that things were broken, but it was messy. The kitchen sink was piled high. The trash can was full. The floor hadn’t been swept in who knew how long.
He went room to room. The master bedroom looked the same as when he left it, but the attached bathroom...wasn’t. He recalled how meticulously Marissa kept the house. She’d hated the dust and dirt that came in with the wind, could never get it vacuumed up or dusted away fast enough. And she let him know about it.
He’d built that house for her—for them. For their future. She’d hated it. And him, apparently. Their marriage lasted about a year, but it hadn’t been good after the two-month mark when she started asserting—finally—what she expected, and it wasn’t kids or living on this ranch. In the five years they’d dated, she’d never uttered a word about either.
Mitch closed his eyes, trying to regain his mood from his ride. He was born on this land, would probably die on this land. He wasn’t going to let a few bad memories steal his joy.
He left his brothers a note, not criticizing their housekeeping skills but saying he’d catch up with them soon. He was looking forward to seeing them, and his sister Haley, alt
hough he’d have to drive into town to catch up with her. She hadn’t built on her property, either, but had a small house in town, walking distance to her work at the rehab hospital.
Mitch and Buckshot made their way back to the main stable. A ranch hand Mitch didn’t know offered to take care of the horse, and Mitch accepted, wanting to get home before Annie worried that he’d left with her truck.
Home. He couldn’t think of it that way. It was her home, not his. He’d just been in his home, and before that the house where he’d grown up. That was still home, too.
The twenty miles of highway back to The Barn Yard felt like two hundred as he contemplated his next move. He should tell her his last name, convince her he was staying to help her succeed. Would she believe him or send him on his way? Then what would she do?
Maybe she could get past learning the truth, but she was justifiably protective of Austin. She wouldn’t see Mitch as a good influence, but someone who’d lied. She’d talked about the Ryder family with him. He’d been in his bedroom listening when his father and brother had come with their proposition. She’d confided in Mitch, telling him things she wouldn’t want his family to know.
He was stuck between being honest with her and earning back his position with his father at the family ranch.
He blocked the debate in his head as he neared her farm, noticing the sign they’d hung, big and bright, hard to miss. It needed something else, something decorative and representative, like chickens or berries. His mother would know. She was the artist in the family—and his sister Jenny, too, but she was at college.
Bo barked, running alongside the truck as Mitch pulled in. Austin was grinning ear to ear. Mitch’d been gone four hours. It felt like an entirely different world from this one. Prosperity versus struggle. Large, boisterous family versus mother and son. Success versus hope. Such incredible hope.
Annie came out of the high tunnel, a soft, welcoming smile on her face. Her hands and arms were covered with dirt. He wanted to give her a proper hello, a hug and kiss, but that was impossible. Even if Austin hadn’t been home, Mitch couldn’t do that. He had no right.
